That evening, Eleanor was able to see what her father had told the papers.

When her eyes stuttered over the first of his many quotes, she felt her heart stop. When it resumed beating, she took herself and the paper off to her bedroom, knowing that she would need some privacy to digest what she was reading. There had been no one else in the drawing room, but there was no alone like a locked-door alone.

She shut herself away, then sat on the chair at her writing table to continue reading.

It shouldn’t have surprised her; it was her father—as her aunt would say—through and through.

As Eleanor read it, she could almost hear His Grace, Duke Erravold Aubrey-Serrs, announcing each word in a voice that was composed of equal parts shouts and growls. He had hauled out his most impressive vocabulary for the pressmen, but it did no good. He could make a dictionary sound like a dogfight.

Eleanor was used to it. But the reporters weren’t. She could tell the reporter who’d written this article hadn’t known what to make of it, so he’d tried to make it a joke.

She blushed.

Stripped of the context and surrounded by scoffing lines, her father’s words sounded so bombastic it gave the impression he was deranged. Of course, he always sounded like that…but…but it was different! It was him, shouting to the theater of his drawing room—his only audience, an indulgent daughter who’d known him all her life! It was not printed on a page and handed out to a world full of people who wouldn’t understand.

Eleanor had once heard of a practice called bearbaiting. She suspected the world would enjoy watching her father’s reaction.

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing.

For the moment, everything seemed peaceful. The paper rustled in her hand. The air moved in and out of her nostrils. Soft noises pressed against her closed window. Nothing was happening. All the roiling nonsense of her emotions were coming from her head. There was no real threat. Only her fear.

Oh well, she thought, opening her eyes. It’s done. I love Father, but if he doesn’t like being thought a fool for talking like that, maybe he should stop being foolish. At least now everyone knows it was a prank. With luck, we’ll hear no more about it.

She stuffed the offending paper under her mattress, where the bemused maid would find it the next day, and when her father stormed around that evening, looking for the thing, she feigned deafness.

Dear sirs,

You wondered yesterday how I would respond to my prospective father-in-law’s words. This is my response:

I hope the duke will forgive me for pointing it out, but grotesque, monstrous, and outrageous are all synonyms, and two of them could have been omitted without losing the sense of outrage he had toward the offense. In fact, there were a great deal of extraneous adjectives in the whole of it, but I am not a scholar, so I’ll refrain from noting them. I’ll leave that to you journalists, who need to be the first line of defense for our evolving language. As a member of the humble public, it was really only that one line that offended me—so many angry s-sounds crammed into such a small space!—but on the whole, I found myself crying along, “Hear, hear!”

For you see, gentlemen, I agree with the beloved duke (though maybe not with his vehemence). Such an outrage is deplorable, and he’s well within his rights to decry me. I’m down to the dust with shame over the matter.

It was a gross discourtesy, and while it was unintentional, it’s also inexcusable. I would like to publicly apologize to the whole of society for it. You see, the proof of those invitations was only ever meant to be seen by myself and the printer so we could approve the layout. However, there was a mix-up with my secretary, and, well, you see the result.

Perhaps it’s my fault for trusting so important a matter to another.

I never would have dreamed of sending out those invitations without first getting approval from my dear soon-to-be Papa, and I know that he, like myself and my fiancée, was so keenly anticipating the happy event that he wanted the date moved up. Eight weeks is far too long to wait!

Strike the event from your calendar on July fifteenth, and look for the real invitations to arrive soon with the correction.

Yours, ever,

The Marvelous Mr. Penn.

Lady Helena swished into the dining room with her great skirts and chilly indignation.

“Did you see?” she demanded.

“I saw,” Eleanor affirmed.

“Well?!”

“I agree with him! Grotesque, monstrous, and outrageous really were too much. It shouldn’t be allowed.”

The baroness stared at her niece. There was a long silence. Then both women, at the same time, felt the snort of an escaping giggle.

“Eleanor Louise Serrs, how could you?” Helena said, trying to recover some dignity.

“Well, do you disagree?”

“That is neither here nor there!”

“I think it’s the heart of the matter! And so do you.”

Her aunt sat down beside her. “You’ll be the death of me, girl.”

Eleanor took her aunt’s hand. She could feel the knots in Helena’s gnarled knuckles, and a sudden awareness of the matriarch’s age trickled through Eleanor’s jovial defense. “I hope not, Aunt Helena.”

“Oh, never mind.” There was another pause. “You know what Erravold will say.”

Eleanor sighed. “That a Serrs never lets an insult pass.”

“And he would think being referred to as ‘papa’ was an insult.”

Both women stared at the table. The doorbell rang.

“They’re early,” Eleanor said, standing up.

“Who could you possibly be expecting at this hour?”

“The press.”

The baroness stood up at once. “Can you chase them away?”

“I can try.”

Eleanor hitched up her skirt, and if she didn’t run, she certainly walked quickly. Maybe her father was still asleep. She wanted to get to the door before they decided to ring again.

Taylor was already there when she arrived. He stopped with his hand on the latch when he saw her and only opened the portal when she told him it was all right.

When Eleanor saw who was outside, she almost sagged with relief.

“Please tell me I beat them here,” Haley gasped.

Eleanor nodded.

“Thank god.”

The policeman looked as if he’d thrown on most of his clothes. The Quotidian was crammed under his arm, hopelessly creased and wrinkled from the harsh treatment. He stood up straighter and put a hand to his tie, possibly to straighten the knot. There was no knot. He removed the accessory and tucked it in his pocket.

As if beginning anew, he said, “Good morning, Miss Serrs.”

Eleanor had to smile. “Good morning, Mr. Haley.”

“Is your father in?”

“I don’t know if he’s up yet.”

“Good,” Haley announced with feeling. “Miss Serrs—”

Eleanor felt a presence and heard her aunt’s voice from over her shoulder. “My niece is a lady, Inspector Haley.”

Lucas hesitated, then nodded. “Good morning, Lady Serrs-Comtess. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend—”

“Oh, I have no doubt the offense isn’t yours.” Helena cast a look at Eleanor. “I suspect she thinks she’s being bohemian.” The baroness turned her eyes back to the policeman. “You want to wait for my brother?”

“If it might be permitted, milady.”

“May I ask why?”

Haley considered, then decided that there was nothing for it except the truth. “I was hoping to dissuade him from talking to the press.”

“It’ll be futile.”

“Still, I have to try.”

Serrs-Comtess chilled him a little longer with her gaze. “Better you than me, Inspector. I wish you the best of luck.” The baroness turned. “Show him into the sitting room, Taylor, and see if you can do something about the state of his dress.”

Red-faced, Haley stepped into the entryway.

Taylor shut the door and said in a gentle voice, “Your tie, Inspector.”

“I can see to myself. Thank you, Taylor.”

“There’s a mirror here, sir.”

From near the dining room, the baroness called to her niece: “Eleanor!”

“Coming, Aunt Helena!”

But Eleanor didn’t leave. She glanced at Taylor, who melted back a few feet so he wouldn’t be in the way. Eleanor stepped up to Haley’s side.

The policeman looked at her in the mirror. “Lady Serrs?”

Eleanor muttered while staring at the ground. “Not around my aunt either, I suppose. Maybe ‘lady’ would be best.”

“It is your title.”

“And now my bohemian ambitions are thwarted. I’ll have to throw away all my scribbles.” She waited until the policeman had finished setting his tie to say, “Mr. Haley, I approve of your mission, but I won’t be guilty of sending you in unprepared. My father will be very angry, and he won’t be receptive to any cautions.”

The policeman turned. “I know, but I have to do what I can.”

“Would you like me to go in with you?”

“I can handle myself, and believe it or not, I have faced worse.”

Eleanor sighed, then muttered, “‘The fewer men, the greater share of honour.’”

There was a speck of silence, then Haley finished the quote: “‘I pray thee, wish not one man more.’”

A rueful smile appeared on Eleanor’s face. “As you please then.” She went to join her aunt in the dining room.

Haley watched her go. When Taylor stood beside him and oh-so-quietly cleared his throat, the policeman turned.

“Your tie, sir.”

The inspector resigned himself. Judging from Taylor’s own suit, the butler would do a better job with it anyway.

When Eleanor got back to the table, she saw her aunt had taken some breakfast for herself.

“What took you so long, Eleanor?”

“I was offering my services as a peacemaker to the Inspector.”

Helena snorted with contempt. “Does he need one?”

“Apparently not. He refused me.”

Helena eyed her niece. “Were you really going to try to placate that monster of a man, or were you being nosy?”

Eleanor blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about having an ear in the room when the chief inspector counsels your father. It’s a good idea.”

A strangled shout echoed around the house, followed by the more articulate cry of “Eleanor!”

Eleanor stared at the ceiling above her. “Oh. Father’s awake.”

There was stomping.

“I didn’t know that he took his paper before breakfast these days,” Lady Serrs-Comtess said.

“He doesn’t. Last night he must have asked for it to be brought to him early.”

Her father’s holler tumbled down the stairs like a clumsy bull: “Taylor!”

“He yelled for you first,” Helena noted.

Eleanor sighed again. She seemed to be doing that a lot recently. “He usually does, but then he must have realized he needed to dress.”

“Humph. It must be difficult to rage in your pajamas.”

The two women hurried to finish their food. They were just in time to meet the duke as he stormed down the front stairs.

“You’ve seen?” His face was already beet red.

“Yes, Father,” Eleanor said.

The duke raised his voice again, as if to make up for his daughter’s composure. “You saw what that…that…impudent, idiotic, insufferable—”

“Oh, it’s the ‘i’ adjectives today,” Lady Helena said. “Please, Erravold, at least don’t make it easy for him.”

The duke’s anger billowed from his toes up to his throat and choked him.

“Breathe, Erravold. Only toddlers pass out from their temper. Really, I thought you’d have gotten over that by now.”

Aubrey-Serrs’ eyes bulged, but he did take a few breaths. Once he was in control of himself, he growled, “Helena—”

“Oh! Before I forget—Edward is coming in today. Since it seems you’ll be too busy to give any orders, may I instruct the chauffeur to pick him up from the station?”

“Eddie’s coming?” Lady Serrs asked.

“He is. Can you stand it, Eleanor? He had business in town that couldn’t wait—”

“No, I’d love to see Cousin Eddie!”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten his tendency to tease.”

Duke Aubrey-Serrs was done breathing. “Edward’s coming? Grand of you to tell me!”

“I did tell you,” the baroness said. “I told you he’s coming. I told you he’s staying. Whether or not you listened is your own concern.”

“Do as you like!” The duke threw up his hands. “It can’t possibly get any worse, now can it?”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

Before the duke could think of a retort, Taylor appeared at his elbow. “Inspector Haley is still waiting for you, Your Grace.”

“He can damn well wait! Or is he in charge of me as well?”

“I believe he wanted to see you before—”

The doorbell rang.

“Before what?” the duke demanded.

“Before the men from the newspapers arrive.”

The doorbell rang again.

“That will be them,” Eleanor said. “I’ll go get it.”

“You will not!” Her aunt’s command was so forceful, it froze Eleanor where she stood. “I don’t want you anywhere near those reporters.” In a more mild voice, Helena said, “They’ll swarm you. Do you want that?”

“No, Aunt Helena.”

“Come with me. We’ll go get Edward together.”

The bell sang again.

“But—the reporters…”

“Let them get a sore finger, girl! You owe them nothing but a box around the ears. Come with me.”

Eleanor looked at her father. He seemed troubled. When he noticed her gaze, he said gruffly, “Yes, yes. Go. I’ll handle the reporters. I’ll handle them with a bludgeon!”

“Your Grace, would you like me to get the door?” Taylor’s imperturbable voice flowed over them all.

“Yes! Fine. Drag them all into the sitting room.”

“Inspector Haley is in the sitting room, Your Grace.”

“They can join us!”

“Yes, Your Grace. And would you like me to get a bludgeon?”

“Bah!” The duke threw up his hands again and turned toward the sitting room without any other answer.

Lady Serrs-Comtess took Eleanor by the arm and pulled her up the stairs. “We can be getting our jackets and hats.”

“But, Aunt Helena—” Eleanor whispered.

“I know, I know. But there’s nothing we can do. I was hoping they would show up while Erravold was in with that policeman. I would have sent them away with a flea in their ears. As it is, we can only deny them the pleasure of leering at you.”

Eleanor felt her tenuous grasp on the situation retreat every time she lifted a foot to ascend. It was as if her ability to change anything had stayed downstairs while she and her aunt rose above it all.